


Ambrosial

by Tsume_Yuki



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Harry Potter's Scar Looks Like Real Lightning, Jealous Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Professor Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsume_Yuki/pseuds/Tsume_Yuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle has always understood the idea of physical attraction, of attachment. But he's never experienced that crippling phenomenon himself.<br/>That is, until Professors Potter comes striding into the Great Hall, with her gale force magic and her tight leather pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambrosial

****

 

 

_December 1943_

 

 

A crack of thunder burst overhead, and the Johnson family let out a terrified scream, huddling together beneath the shelter they'd tentatively claimed when the sirens had gone off, having been unable to make it to a bomb shelter in time.

It wasn't until three hours had passed, that little ten year old Frederick Johnson dared to venture from the shelter when all was safe.

It was three hours, one hundred and ninety seconds later that the boy found a impressively larger crater in the ground, absent of any and all scorch marks that the bombs left in their wake.

It was three hours, two hundred and seventy eight seconds later that the youngest member of the Johnston household met the confused eyes of the red haired woman in the centre of the crater.

 

 

 

 

** I  ** _  
September 1944_

 

 

"…And finally, as I'm sure many of you have notice, Professor Merrythought is absent from the staff table this year."

Eyes lazily crawling across the line up of the current professors, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Seventh Year Student and Head Boy, fought valiantly to pay some semblance of attention to Dippet's drawling speech.

It hadn't been too difficult back in first year, back when he was still in that wide eyed phase of wonderment, rose tinted glasses perched perfectly before his face.

Those had been broken the second the Slytherin common room had sealed shut that very night.

The other Slytherins had broken those glasses.

But in time, he had broken them in return.

He had made them pay, made them bleed.

Now they understood he was at the top of the food chain, that they were all below him. Even if all those outside of Slytherin didn't know it yet.

As the years had gone by, his interest in Dippet's annual speech had lulled, until the previous year he'd only been paying attention to any key words that could possibly impact on the plans that were spinning about in his head. It was a far better way to occupy his time than listening to the elderly man, after all. Plotting. Planning.

He was just scanning the new crowd of first year Slytherins, making a quick note in his head of the key points of his welcoming speech he'd make upon return to the common room, only for Dippet to drop a metaphorical bomb.

"After fifty years of teaching, she has decided to retire. Replacing her is Professor Potter, who was summoned to the Ministry an hour ago. She will be back for tomorrow though."

 

 

 

"A new Professor." It was not a question.

Sat on the most luxurious of the chairs in the common room, Tom Riddle narrowed his eyes at Orlan Lestrange, catching the tiniest flinch he tried so hard to conceal. Lestrange's father was on the Board of Governors, subsequently, Orlan should have been kept informed of any and all staff changes. Which meant Tom should have been kept informed of any and all staff changes.

This was not what he would call informed.

"My father has mentioned nothing of significance to me that I have not already told you. Though, with hindsight now present it becomes glaringly obvious that the little thing he had been sworn to secrecy over is our dear new professor."

Lestrange's face crumpled in slightly, a visible sign of his absolute frustration over the current situation, and Tom leant back in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other as his eyes shifted to the First Years. A speech was the last thing on his mind right now.

Plans had been ruined by Merrythought's unexpected retirement. She'd been wanting to go for the past two years, but no qualified successor had appeared during that time, and it'd only taken a bit of sweet talking from Tom for the woman to agree to remain on until he was old enough to take the post.

After all, he was Hogwarts' brightest student, he was going places, and there were few who wouldn't want such an intelligent mind teaching their own children.

Of course, teaching wasn't all that Tom had plotted; the Defence Professor was uniquely suited to his goals after all, to open up the minds of others to the world of Dark Magic, to prove it wasn't as terrifying as they all perceived it.

To show them all that Grindelwald was on to something and that the muggles really were horrid creatures that were better off dead.

Few would know this better than he, he who had suffered through the humiliation of living with the beasts for the vast majority of his life.

But now all those plans were ruined. New goals would have to be created, new ideas and methods. Perhaps even an unfortunate accident for this 'Professor Potter'. Speaking of which-

"Do we have any information on our new Professor? Other than a name that is?" Tom asked, eyes flickering back to his inner circle.

Lestrange, Avery, Black and Malfoy traded cautious glances, before finally, Orion's eyes turned to look towards little Alphard Black.

The fifth year's younger cousin had just come to Hogwarts to start his first year, and seemed quite excited if the way his eyes were darting around the common room was anything to go by.

"Alphard said a Potter with red hair helped him when he took a wrong turn into Knockturn in summer. Father was insistent that there are no Potters with red hair… Perhaps we are dealing with a bastard child here?"

Well, Tom would know all about being a bastard of a pureblood family line.

Fighting to keep the sneer off his face, Tom gestured for Orion to go and make the enquiries with his cousin. He did detest flying into a situation being anything less than perfectly prepared, and in all honesty, with a new professor to win over in his final year, perhaps he wouldn’t be so awfully bored as he'd been expecting.

 

 

 

Alphard Black had proven to be a disappointment, though there was no surprise there. The incompetence of wizards always managed to astound him, and just when Tom thought he'd become accustomed to the level of stupidity he had to put up with, something else would always come rushing in out of nowhere to prove him the bottom of the barrel had yet to be scraped clean.

The younger Black was clearly not particularly good at being a Slytherin yet, given the fact that all he could remember of the Potter he'd ran into was that she had red hair, green eyes and the most fearsome scar he'd ever seen stretching across her face.

That was it.

Orion had seemed particularly shamed when he gave the report of all he'd learnt from his younger cousin. Given the fact it was now the Black Heir's job to whip all the First Years into actual Slytherins as punishment for his younger cousin's deficiencies, Tom wouldn't have to worry about them for a few days.

Hopefully.

Plucking up a slice of toast, the Heir of Slytherin went about methodically spreading butter across it's warm surface, only half listening to Avery as the boy recalled the major event of his summer holidays.

The staff table was only half full, with Dumbledore chatting away with Dippet, Slughorn already present and constantly peeking at the entrance to the Great Hall.

Waiting for someone.

Given the fact that, when it came to the staff, the most famous faces at Hogwarts were already present, that left one possible person he could be waiting on.

Letting his gaze dance around the hall to the large double doors, Tom took a bite of his toast, returning his attention to Avery's story.

It was only five minutes later, when Malfoy cut off partway though his own contribution to the conversation, that Tom bothered to look up, almost swallowing his mouthful of bacon before he'd even gotten to chew it in his surprise.

Already halfway to the professors' table, a young woman with startlingly bright red hair was casually chatting to a small gathering of First Years.

She didn't wear robes, instead an absolutely sinful combination of dark brown leather trousers tucked into dragon-hide boots, and a long sleeved, billowing white shirt.

All around the Great Hall conversations had slowly to a trickle, if not an outright stop, as the woman waved the crowd of First Years to their respective tables and made for her own.

Amusingly enough, Slughorn stumbled to his feet, blushing as he pulled out a chair for the redhead, who turned to face the Great Hall for the first time.

He could see why Alphard Black had been so focused upon the Potter's appearance now. The green that surrounded her pupils glared as bright as her hair in the charmed lighting, and the scar upon her face was a sight to behold.

Like a literal flash of lightning, the jagged cicatrix stretched down from the upper left of her forehead, spanning out across her eyelids to form the fiercest version of warpaint he'd ever seen a person wear. It wasn't beautiful, but it definitely wasn't ugly.

Dramatic as feature, certainly.

The kind of scarring that came about from a dark curse. And it was a dark curse, he could sense the energy in the scar, even from the other side of the room.

"Ah," Dippet had clambered to his feet now, looking at the newest addition to the teaching body of Hogwarts with a fond smile upon his face, "as you can all see, Professor Potter has returned in time for the first day of classes, so no need to fret. She comes with an excellent résumé and we at Hogwarts and quite happy to accept her as family."

The newcomer offered up a small smile, accompanied by a short little wave of one small hand before she turned her attention on the evidentially thrilled Slughorn.

He had to be twice her age; disgusting.

Still, if he was close to the woman, Tom would be able to get information from the man on how to get into her good books. It shouldn't be too difficult, though he'd have to be careful in regards to just how much charm he used.

Though witches and wizards aged slowly in comparison to muggles, Potter could probably throw on a Hogwarts robe and fit right into the student population. There couldn’t be more than five years between them, ten if she was particularly lucky in the looks department.

He didn't need to be known as the student that got seduced by a teacher, because that would be how it looked.

Though it would probably get her kicked out of the job faster, it still stood to reason that such a thing was unacceptable a mark on his record.

He was the most mature student at Hogwarts in the eyes of all the Professors, even if Dumbledore was the only one to see him without those popular rose tinted glasses. He'd woven his mask too tightly, he couldn't seduce Potter without tarring his own reputation at the same time.

Regardless, he didn't have to go down that route anyway.

And if he did, well, he'd be out of Hogwarts in nine months; such a thing would be far more acceptable then.

Tom was drawn back down to earth when, beside him, Avery let out a low whistle. Both Lestrange and Malfoy's eyebrows had shot upwards and remained there, while Black's lips were parted ever so slightly.

How unseemly.

"And your father wouldn't speak of this?" Tom spoke quietly, watching Lestrange for his reaction. The teen blinked slowly, as if breaking free from an enchantment.

Yet, his eyes still lingered.

The tumultuous smile that crossed Tom's lips had the four males snapping to attention. Finally.

"No… And I have no idea why."

Humming from behind his sealed lips, Tom ran his finger around the rim of his goblet, the orange juice within quivering, echoing the movement.

Glancing back up, Tom forced himself not to flinch when he met Potter's gaze. Ardent eyes were set ablaze by that scarring. She watched him for a second, without any emotion crossing her face, before turned away, relapsing back into her conversation with an sickeningly enamoured Slughorn, who was evidentially, completely ensorcelled.

Had, had he just been, dismissed?

Tom didn't allow his lips to purse, but it was a near thing. How was it possible, that to this new professor, he was nothing more than a fugacious curiosity? Just another student, another face in the crowd?

No, that couldn't possibly be right, given the fact that she had actually taken a second to look at him.

Every other soul in this place, from where all the other students constellated within this hall, got nothing more than a sweeping glance.

She had paused on him.

Could she sense that power that clung to him like a second skin? That embraced him far more thoroughly than any human ever had?

Perhaps.

Dumbledore certainly had.

He was ingurgitated on his thoughts, with his plans. Thousands of possibilities, all right there, and it was with great operose that he pulled himself back from that abyss.

After all, he had lessons to attend.

"We have Defence first," Malfoy murmured, eyes following Potter as she stood and proceeded to exit the Great Hall after only a bowlful of fruit and yoghurt.

"So we do," Tom mused, watching Potter's lean legs eat up the distance between the staff table and the entranceway.

He wasn't the only one to watch, but my far the most innocuous of the lot. He was just appreciating the aesthetic.

Many an upper-year male, and perhaps even a few females, watched her go with carnal lust pitifully concealed. Half of the school seemed to have become inebriated by Potter's mere presence.

Understandable; she was a young, potentially talented witch, had to be to have gained the enviable position of Professor at Hogwarts.

"Let's hope she can teach as good as she looks," Avery muttered beneath his breath and this time, Tom did allow himself an eye roll.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because I really wanted to write a Tom that's disgusted by the idea of relationships and sex, and is furious he's falling into such a 'trap' regardless.  
> Basically, I wanna see his struggle when it comes to accepting the fact he likes Harry.


End file.
